


House Hunters: Night Vale

by bellagerantalii



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Carlos is a Dork, Cecil is Mostly Human, Fluff, M/M, Moving In Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-28 16:11:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/993921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellagerantalii/pseuds/bellagerantalii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the condo incident, Carlos is more than a little hesitant about entering the Night Vale real estate market. Cecil is dead-set on making a home for the two of them, and convinces Carlos that maybe house hunting isn't such a bad idea after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	House Hunters: Night Vale

**Author's Note:**

> This hints at the WTNV live show in San Francisco. It was too adorable not to write about,

After the condo experience, Carlos is more than a little hesitant to go house hunting in Night Vale. His little room over the lab has something resembling cable now, and when his bed is too hard on his back, he can always go and sleep over at Cecil’s studio apartment. Cecil’s pull out couch bed isn’t comfortable per se, but it’s better than an army cot that groans every time Carlos turns over. 

Except Cecil’s studio is much too small for the two of them, and Cecil has latched onto the idea that they should build a home together. He’s also taken to marathoning all thirteen seasons of "House Hunters", which seems to be the only network TV show that gets through unscathed by Night Vale’s censors. 

And then one night over a lunch of municipally mandated Rico’s, Cecil suddenly announces that he’s made an appointment with a local realtor that afternoon.

“Marcia Whethers knows _everything_ about real estate. She’ll find us someplace perfect” he says, shaking a liberal amount of red pepper flakes onto his pineapple and ham slice. 

 

Their appointment with the realtor mainly involves Marcia Whethers chanting in an ancient, sinister-sounding language over Carlos and Cecil while she burns chicken bones and eucalyptus leaves in a bronze bowl. This seems to make perfect sense to Cecil, who giddily announces to Carlos that Marcia will get back to them in a few days. 

“But Cecil, she didn’t ask us about price, or if we want to rent or buy, or… Well, she didn’t ask us anything!” Carlos objects, clutching Cecil’s hand to keep him from skipping down Main Street.

“Well of _course_ she didn’t, sweet, sweet Carlos. It’s not about what we _want_ , it’s about what we _need_. You don’t think house hunting is actually like what they show on TV, do you?”

Carlos has long learned to stop questioning these sorts of things, so he just shrugs his shoulders and kisses Cecil goodbye on the steps of his lab. 

"House Hunters", it turns out, is shown on the Night Vale equivalent of HBO. 

 

Marcia Whethers does get back to them a few days later, and the following Saturday finds Cecil and Carlos driving to meet her in one of the subdivisions near the elementary school; one of the few that’s still standing, anyway. Marcia Whethers actually looks like a real estate agent today, stepping out of her silver BMW wearing a black pinstriped pencil-skirt and blazer combo. 

The house she believes Carlos and Cecil “need” is a modern ranch with lots of windows, a double carport, and the greenest grass Carlos has ever seen. He wonders how much water the previous owners illegally siphoned off to keep it looking so lush in the middle of the desert. 

“Three bedrooms, two-and-a-half baths, gas stove, and a pool membership,” Marcia rattles off as she unlocks the front door. The house is no longer furnished, and there are still tiny holes in the walls from where pictures once hung. 

“Do we really need three bedrooms?” asks Carlos, his voice echoing through the empty house. Cecil may be the premiere radio broadcaster in the town, but that acclaim doesn’t translate into a hefty paycheck. And it’s not like the university Carlos works for is any more generous.

“You will in five years, three months, and fourteen days,” says Marcia, showing off the spacious open floor plan while leading them to the recently updated kitchen. 

Carlos is more than a little baffled by this. How does this woman know what he plans to do? Night Vale may be growing on him, no doubt because Cecil is the most adorable boyfriend he’s ever had, but _five years_? Carlos always assumed that he’d be able to lure his doting boyfriend away once the university’s grant money dried up. 

He looks over at said boyfriend, who is standing next to him, glasses slipping down his nose as all of his eyes sweep over the wood cabinetry. Even his shy third eye has come out for the occasion. 

Carlos reaches out and puts the slightest pressure on Cecil’s hand, and Cecil turns to look at him, sees just the tiniest hint of worry on his face, and interrupts Marcia, who is currently expounding on the virtues of stainless steel appliances.

“If I could interrupt you for one minute, Marcia. Carlos isn’t all that familiar with how we do real estate here in Night Vale… I assume you heard about the condo incident?” He adds the last sentence in a whisper, and Marcia smiles knowingly and nods slowly. 

“Could you just let us know how much this is going to cost?” Cecil continues, squeezing Carlos’ hand and smiling.

To Carlos’s great surprise, the real estate agent/ sorceress actually names a price he and Cecil can actually afford, assuming mortgages work the same way here as they do in the outside world. 

There’s still the matter of "you’ll need them in five years," but the look on Cecil’s face is enough to convince Carlos that just maybe he can convince the university to continue funding his team’s research. 

 

Everything goes swimmingly until the day they move in. The paperwork all goes through, an actual bank has approved them for an actual mortgage (Carlos insists they go through a bank outside Night Vale), Cecil is able to negotiate himself out of his apartment lease, and two weeks after they first see the house, they’re emptying out a U-Haul van in the driveway. 

There’s not much to empty out, quite frankly. Cecil only has a studio apartment’s worth of furniture, and Carlos never counted on staying in Night Vale for more than a year, tops, so he has little more than a dresser, clothes, and cooking utensils. His sister is planning on visiting soon, though, and has promised to bring down everything Carlos has in storage. 

Carlos is busy unloading pots and pans when Cecil sidles up behind him, wraps his arms around Carlos’ waist, and buries his own face in Carlos’ neck.

“Takeout tonight?” he asks, adding a sigh. Cecil sounds so content and pleased that Carlos involuntarily moves in closer towards him. 

“Yeah, sounds good.”

“Good, because I already ordered,” Cecil says, playfully spinning Carlos around and pecking him on the lips. 

“Where did you put my car keys?” he asks, looking around the room, his hands still on Carlos’ waist. 

“On the nightstand,” says Carlos, and Cecil flashes a smile before he darts back towards their bedroom. Carlos considers following him for half a second, but decides that cornering Cecil in the bedroom is probably best left until after dinner. It’s their first night in a new house (and a new bed), after all, and Carlos has a feeling Cecil already has something planned.

Cecil reappears, twirling his keychain around his index finger, and gives Carlos yet another elated smile as he walks out the door. 

“Be back in a few minutes!” he calls, closing the door behind him.

Carlos laughs, and works on putting everything away until there’s a loud knock on the door. It’s only been five minutes since Cecil left, and Carlos hopes it’s a neighbor dropping by, and not the Sherriff’s Secret Police. He’s heard stories about their municipally mandated, unannounced visits to new homeowners, and doesn’t fancy welcoming them in without Cecil.

The visitor is not, however, wearing a black balaclava, but a frilly pink tutu and matching leotard, and is about three feet shorter than your average secret police man or woman. She is also holding a plate of delicious smelling cookies.

“Um, hello!” says Carlos. He’s never been that good with kids. Mostly because they don’t actually care why the sky is blue or why there are clouds in the sky. They just think they do, and are totally unimpressed when Carlos tells them exactly why things are the way they are.

“My daddy, wanted me to bring you these. He says to tell you we live next door and… Well I don’t remember what else he wanted me to say,” says the little girl, whom Carlos now notices is wearing rain boots and is missing her two front teeth. “He would come over with me but the inter-dimensional portal in my closet is shooting out dead frogs again.”

“You… you have a portal that shoots dead frogs?” Carlos stammers, taking the plate of cookies from the girl.

“Yeah. It does that now that mommy’s not around to take care of it anymore. I have to go to dance class now. Have a nice day!” she calls, smiling and waving as she runs off the porch and into the garage next door. Carlos is left standing in the doorway, not quite sure whether to thank her or to ask her if he can come over sometime and study her portal. 

He settles for standing by the window and watching the street, waiting for Cecil to return. Surely he knows about this portal, right? 

Cecil pulls into the carport in his silver Made-In-Night Vale car, and walks up the front path just as the little girl and her father drive past in a tan Toyota Corolla. Carlos goes to greet Cecil at the door, ready to pester him with questions about this Dead Frog Portal. Cecil, however, is still standing on the front stoop, his back to Carlos, and looking off after the car.

“Um, Cecil? Did you know about-“

Cecil rounds on Carlos, his third eye purplish-red in rage and his tattoos buzzing angrily on his arms. 

“Steve _Carlsberg_ is our next door neighbor!?”


End file.
